Saddle Blanket
by dratcat
Summary: Shirosaki has been invading Ichigo's dreams lately, making his life a living hell. "I refuse to be th' Horse forever, King. I'm gonna buck ya off, and when yeh fall, know that it's gonna hurt." ShirosakiXIchigo. COMPLETE.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, nor am I trying to make any profit from this silly little bunch of words. I write fanfiction because I love the characters and the worlds they live in, not because I need a little extra cash.

Author's Note: This fic is going to be in two parts - this first part is pretty PG-rated, but the second part is adult-rated, with a lemon. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

_Oh I am growing tired  
__Of allowing you to steal  
__Everything I have  
__You're making me feel  
__Like I was born to service you  
__But I am growing by the hour  
__You left us far behind  
__So we all discard our souls  
__And blaze through your skies  
__So unafraid to die  
__'Cause I was born to destroy you  
__And I am growing by the hour  
__And I'm getting strong in every way  
You led me on…_

Muse, "Hate This And I'll Love You"

* * *

**[ SADDLE BLANKET | PART ONE ]**

Ichigo sighed as he turned off the light, making his way through the darkness to his bed. The springs creaked slightly as he lowered himself onto the mattress and twisted and turned until he was about as comfortable as he was going to get.

Sleeping had become a chore for him, something to be avoided altogether if possible. But it wasn't. He wouldn't be of any use to anybody if he wasn't sufficiently rested. But that was the point: getting sleep and getting rest were two different things, even if you had to get one to accomplish the other.

Shirosaki had been forcing himself upon his dreams lately. Ichigo had read somewhere that people dreamt every time they went to sleep, and remembered their dreams only rarely. He still hadn't considered himself much of a dreamer though, until now. Every single dream he had - every last one, and he had several each night - was invaded by the voice or presence of the snide, grinning hollow.

Even in his weirder dreams, which Ichigo doubted he would normally remember, Shirosaki was there. One night he had dreamed that he and his friends were playing soccer on the school oval dressed in Franciscan monks' robes, and his side was losing. All of a sudden, the hollow was standing in the middle of the field.

"What the fuck, King?"

That was when he had tripped over the hem of the ridiculous robe he'd been wearing and fell face-first into a puddle of mud which hadn't been there a second ago.

Shirosaki stood over him and grinned so widely it almost looked as though the bottom half of his face was going to fall off.

"Heh. The Franciscans were all 'bout humility, y' know," the hollow informed him smugly. "Perhaps bein' on the losin' side of this game and paintin' yer face with mud is yer subconscious' way of tellin' ya that ya need to be a little more humble, eh?"

"How the hell would you know anything about monks?" Ichigo snapped. He couldn't really think of anything else to say – perhaps the little bastard was right.

Shirosaki's eyes narrowed dangerously. However, all he said was: "Perhaps I pay more attention in your classes than you do, King."

Ichigo huffed, and wiped mud from his lips. "Piss off."

Every dream he had was a repeat, more of the same. Shirosaki made sure he remembered each and every one.

When he fell asleep that night, however, things were a little different.

He dreamed he was in that world, which he supposed was in his head anyway. Strange. He'd never come here before without any reason.

He stood alone atop one of the towering buildings, and the wind buffeted his body harder than he remembered from before. He felt cold, and shoved his hands under his armpits to warm them. Ah. His shinigami garb had more layers than the thin flannel pants and t-shirt he was wearing now. They were the same clothes he had fallen asleep in.

"Hey, King." It was a soft murmur. Ichigo felt the words more than heard them. He spun around.

Shirosaki sat on the other side of the building. For once, the hollow's black and gold gaze was not upon him - it was directed instead out into the distance of the surreal city. Every now and then the hollow's head lowered to watch his feet swing, out over the building's edge. The two existed in silence for a time.

"Y' know – " the hollow began.

Ichigo interrupted. "Shut it, Shirosaki. Don't you think I've heard enough of your voice over the past few nights to do me for the rest of my mortal life?"

"Y' know…" the voice was quieter this time. "Y' know…it's in the nature of th' trapped wild creature t' attempt escape."

Ichigo frowned. "What you're saying…it isn't like you," he muttered suspiciously. "What – "

Shirosaki mumbled something that Ichigo couldn't quite hear, his head tucked into his chest.

"What did you say?"

The hollow sighed, and then stood, turning slowly.

"I said, when have I ever been known to speak anythin' other than th' truth? I have never lied to ya, no matter what ya may think," he added darkly.

Ichigo's brow furrowed further. "No," he said slowly, "I don't think you ever have." A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his fingers tightened to form a fist. "You have, however, used the truth unscrupulously to complicate, wound and confuse."

"Which would ya consider the lesser o' two evils?" Shirosaki asked.

"…What?"

"Would yeh rather I use lies or th' truth in order to hurt ya?"

Ichigo glared at the hollow in silence.

"At least when I use th' truth, yeh learn somethin' from it afterwards. Lies are only any good fer stories."

Finally, Ichigo replied angrily, "Is it necessary to use words to hurt at all?"

Shirosaki's spine straightened, and it was his turn to glare. His eyes sparked. "I refuse to be th' Horse forever, King. I'm gonna buck ya off, and when yeh fall, know that it's gonna hurt."

Ichigo reached behind his shoulder for his…where was Zangetsu? Right, this was a dream. Could he summon his sword here?

Shirosaki sneered at him contemptuously. Even though they were the same height, Ichigo felt as though he was being looked down upon. "Ah, I don't feel like clashin' swords with ya today. I'm too bitter to enjoy th' fight." He looked disappointed with himself, and turned away in disgust.

Ichigo's eyebrows lifted involuntarily in astonishment. What was wrong with Shirosaki? Had he lost his motivation? What kept him so determined anyway? Was it simply his nature, as he had implied at the beginning of their conversation? Ichigo felt exhausted. Sleep did not bring him rest these days.

The world around him started shifting, lifting itself away from his vision. Shirosaki's dispassionate form was the last thing to fade as Ichigo fell into another dream.

* * *

Ichigo was both relieved and worried.

For the past week and a half, Shirosaki had made no more appearances in his dreams. The few dreams he did remember felt vague and without substance, as if the hollow's presence had strengthened them.

Ichigo wondered now if he tried to bring forth the mask, if the hollow would even come.

It was 11:00 at night, and he was editing the final copy of an essay he had been given as part of an assignment. The words seemed meaningless, the irrelevant regurgitation of already-known thoughts and opinions on a piece of literature. Even though the words themselves were his own (he would never cheat with his schoolwork), the ideas behind those words were nothing new – something taught to year after year of students, with little change or original thought.

What he used his words for seemed particularly important to him, especially after Shirosaki had expressed his own concern for such things.

"For a guy I can't even find in my head anymore, I sure can't seem to stop thinking about the bastard," Ichigo grumbled to himself, and yawned widely. Suddenly fed up with his homework efforts, he stood up and stumbled into bed.

* * *

It was the first dream of the night, or at least Ichigo thought so.

He was there again, for all he knew on top of the same building. He waited for Shirosaki to appear. He waited for several minutes before growing impatient.

"Shirosaki!" he bellowed. "Where the hell are you?"

His voice echoed across the city; he felt like he was trying to make noise in a vacuum. The vibrations of his voice were sucked into the very pores of the city; everything was bounced and absorbed, yet also was oddly silent. He swore to himself – no matter how he yelled or screamed, Shirosaki wouldn't hear him if he wasn't here. He would have to search.

Time was malleable in dreams, he knew. It could be stretched, bent, folded, scrunched up into a ball. It swelled around Ichigo in this place of endless towers and alleys. He had no idea how long he had been searching. The place was all white – Zangetsu had been a beautiful ink stain here, a centre of focus. Where was he now? Ichigo suspected that he wasn't actually in the real city (if the word 'real' could be applied in this case), where he and Zangetsu had met and fought; where he had fought Shirosaki for the first time, swinging the twin of his blade by the wrappings. No, this place was a dream, a memory-picture of the city. If it _was_ the real city, he would have had his blade with him when he arrived, right? Only he, and Shirosaki it seemed, could come here. Shirosaki might not even be here at all – it was possible that he was in the real city, and Ichigo had no idea how to get there on his own. He might simply be gone. No. That was impossible. Urahara's training had wrenched this part of himself away from the whole – he laughed at himself. From the _whole_, which he no longer was. He was a shinigami and a hollow.

White, so much white. Only the blue of the sky reflected in the windows kept him sane. It seemed as though Shirosaki had been born from the city, or perhaps the city had been born from him.

A flash of something made Ichigo slow his steps. Backing up, he peered back into the alley he had just passed. It was all white, like every other alley he had passed. However, not all of the lines were the straight, geometric ones that made the city. An irregular, organic shape had caught his eye.

Shirosaki lay on his back on the hard concrete, his arms spread wide. His eyes were closed and his features were serene. Asleep.

Ichigo stepped hesitantly closer. Had the hollow been sleeping this whole time? He crouched to get a better look. From a distance, Shirosaki had looked peaceful. Ichigo realised that he was stupid to assume that there was anything peaceful about the hollow. Calm maybe, but never peaceful.

Shirosaki looked sad.

"What happened to you, Shirosaki?"

Having his alter ego here, helpless and so much under his mercy, made Ichigo feel light-headed. This was an opportunity to be considered. He shook his head in confusion. He knew that Shirosaki needed him if he was ever to take full control of his body – if Shirosaki wanted to kill him, he would have to have that first, which was why he had helped Ichigo survive in the past.

Did Ichigo need Shirosaki?

His thoughts wandered back to Urahara. Urahara wouldn't have allowed this to happen unless he had known that Ichigo would need the power that Shirosaki would bring. Right? He had needed to increase both his power and skills quickly. Urahara had done the job. And the truth was, Ichigo might still need Shirosaki's help in the future.

Even the idea of killing someone in their sleep filled Ichigo with revulsion. He couldn't afford to kill him.

Perhaps Shirosaki had also come to a similar conclusion, and that was why he was like this now.

This was so weird.

Shirosaki looked so benign, so white and pure, with his eyes closed. Ichigo reached out a hand and brushed the eyelids with his fingertips. They fluttered lightly.

"King…" the hollow murmured. His head turned to the side, away from Ichigo. He sighed. Ichigo watched Shirosaki's chest, so very like his own, rise and fall gently.

"Yes, Horse?" he replied, even though he doubted Shirosaki could hear him. He slid his fingers through the soft, spiky white hair. _His mane_, his mind supplied, and Ichigo laughed. He was the Horse, after all. He wondered if Shirosaki knew that the knight in shining armour was always assumed to ride in on a white stallion. The bad guy always rode the bad-ass black stallion. Ichigo supposed that his black shinigami clothing was close enough for Shirosaki.

Why was he finding this situation suddenly humourous?

He flopped down so that he lay next to Shirosaki. He gripped the other's hand, and without much thought, kissed it.

_Shit what did I just do?_

His eyes flicked up to Shirosaki's face in panic. There was no need for alarm, however – he hadn't awoken. If anything, Shirosaki's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his own. Ichigo sighed in relief. He leaned closer, and dared to lay a feather-light kiss on Shirosaki's cheek.

Shirosaki exhaled softly, and his eyes opened.

"…King?"


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: Me no owney Bleach. Truthfully, I don't want to. I'm content with Tite Kubo's genius - I don't have my own genius to substitute. I'd rather write fic.

Author's Note: Is it just me, or is Ichigo always written as a very _vocal_ little sex puppet?

* * *

_Can you tell me what stopped the rain?  
__Where is salvation?  
__Science? Saviours? Tragedy?  
__May I lead the way into temptation?_

Blaqk Audio, "Bitter For Sweet"

* * *

**[ SADDLE BLANKET | PART TWO ]**

"…King?"

Ichigo's response would have been almost comical in any other situation. He jumped nearly three feet into the air and his cheeks were as bright as his hair. Before he could escape, however, Shirosaki lifted a cool hand to cup the back of his neck and pull his face close again.

Shirosaki frowned. "Mmmm…guess I'm not surprised."

"What?" Ichigo asked incredulously. He'd surprised _himself_ with his actions…

"Yer the King, so yeh have the advantage, and yeh can do whatever yeh want to yer Horse," the hollow explained. "Figures that yeh'd wanna try somethin' like this sooner or later…" Having those eyes so close to his face was disconcerting, and their weight combined with Shirosaki's sudden lewd grin made Ichigo _very_ uncomfortable indeed. He tried to ignore his nerves, and asked:

"Why were you sleeping, hollow?"

"Eh?" Those eyes now moved over the King's face, the flush in his cheeks bringing the blood so close to the surface of the skin… "Why, 'cause I had nothin' else to do, right? No point killin' ya…yet." His grin widened, and he licked his lips. "And I'll tell ya now, fuckin' with yer head in yer sleep was awful fun."

A few seconds passed in silence.

Eventually, Shirosaki's hand tightened in his hair. "Well? Gonna kiss me yet? That's yer invitation, if yeh bloody need one." He yanked Ichigo's head forward, crushing their mouths together.

"Mmph!" Ichigo laid a hand on the hollow's chest to steady himself, and felt the silent chuckle there.

The kiss clacked their teeth together. Shirosaki sucked hard on Ichigo's lower lip, dragging his teeth along as well. Ichigo grunted. That hurt, but it was also kinda…nice. Shirosaki's other hand came up to bury itself in his hair, gently pulling at the orange strands. The contrast between the rough kiss and the tender touches distracted Ichigo. He was beginning to enjoy this, despite himself. He broke the kiss to pant heavily into Shirosaki's mouth. A tongue slipped lightly along his abused lower lip.

"C'mon," the hollow encouraged him, and rolled his hips so that Ichigo could feel the other's growing erection. His gasp was swallowed in another kiss. Shirosaki was obscene; Ichigo now knew it for certain. His tongue left no place inside his mouth unexplored, absolutely none. He rubbed his tongue against his King's, and Ichigo felt the rough velvet of the upper surface and the slippery silk of the underside. The contrast was amazing, and Ichigo thought Shirosaki was beginning to notice that he liked the sensation, because he suddenly slowed down the kiss, made it sweet and soft. Then he dragged his nails heavily down Ichigo's back.

"Ah!"

Ichigo pulled away again and ducked his head into the crook between Shirosaki's neck and shoulder. Too much, too fast, had to slow down. He sucked at Shirosaki's neck; his hormones were getting the better of him. Did he really want to do this? Shirosaki groaned; Ichigo felt the vibration in the hollow's throat. The feeling went straight to his groin.

"Ah, Shiro, do you have to do that?"

The hollow's hands tightened in his hair once again and a tongue came out to lick along the curve of his ear. Shirosaki laughed; the hot breath in Ichigo's ear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Hah…" Nails dug deeply into his sides, and his hips twitched forward. A hand found its way under Ichigo's t-shirt and rubbed circles on his stomach. It slid lower, and cool fingers slipped past his waistband to caress a hip. Shirosaki's other hand clenched in the collar of his t-shirt and pulled. Ichigo moved his arms and tug, tug, tug, the t-shirt was off. They rolled over so that Ichigo's back rested on the cold concrete. The chill on his back woke him up a little to what they were doing.

"Hey, stop th – " The hand not down Ichigo's pants covered his mouth.

"C'mon, King. Ya want this," Shirosaki purred. "And I sure wouldn't mind fuckin' yeh either. Although," he added with a smirk, "this is little more'n glorified masturbation, really…" He pulled Ichigo's pants down around his knees, freeing his erection. Ichigo froze, but so did the hollow.

Ichigo glowered. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. Shirosaki's golden eyes were fixed on his chest. Ichigo frowned down at his chest, trying to see what the hollow was looking at.

Shirosaki slowly turned his head to one side. It looked as though he was listening for something. "What – "

With a sudden unexpected movement, the hollow pressed his ear to Ichigo's chest. Ichigo watched him listen for a minute, no doubt to his heartbeat. He sighed, and Shirosaki looked up. His expression was determined.

"I _will_ have yeh," he informed Ichigo seriously. A hand wrapped itself firmly around his erection and moved slowly, ah, too slowly.

"Yer mine."

Shirosaki shifted his head a little to lick at Ichigo's nipple with broad, flat strokes of his tongue. Ichigo was surprised briefly at its blueness. He had known it was blue before, but he had never had the chance to see it up close. It was funny – he hadn't really noticed while the hollow was kissing him.

The hollow opened his mouth a little wider, and teeth scraped over his nipple. Ichigo threw his head back and moaned; he couldn't help it. He sensed the hollow's grin. Fingers trailed lightly over his abdomen while Shirosaki's tongue did impossible things to his shoulders, throat and chest. The hand around his erection shifted, the thumb rubbing circles around the tip.

"Oh, come on," Ichigo pleaded breathlessly.

Shirosaki gave him a funny look. "You're goin' t' beg? Ohhhh," he moaned, and Ichigo's erection twitched. "And I didn't even have to ask ya, oh yes, that's nice." The hand was removed, and Ichigo groaned in frustration. The hollow ground his hips against Ichigo's and his hands rose to cup Ichigo's face. The hand that had been around his penis was damp against his cheek, and Ichigo blushed violently.

"I want ya t' take off my hakama," the hollow whispered into Ichigo's ear. "Go on, take it off." His tongue curled around Ichigo's earlobe and he sucked on it gently. Ichigo gasped, and moved to undress Shirosaki. He moved to accommodate Ichigo's hands when it was needed, and when he was as naked as Ichigo, he resumed playing with Ichigo's ear – it seemed to be a sensitive spot for him…

When Shirosaki slid his tongue into his ear, Ichigo had no idea why it turned him on so much – before this, he would have said that the idea of having someone else's tongue in your ear was disgusting. But – oh, that was good. How did he do that? Ichigo moved his hands to grip Shirosaki's shoulders tightly.

His King was panting and sweating and flushed beneath him, and the feeling of power was absolutely _exhilarating_. "Yeh stopped begging," he reminded Ichigo. He whispered in his ear, "Don't stop now."

"Shiro…saki…"

"…Hm?"

"I want…" Ichigo turned his head blindly and moaned into Shirosaki's mouth as he moved his hand back to Ichigo's erection, and lord if that didn't feel just fine. Ichigo's clumsy, heavy licks and kisses to the corner of his mouth weren't bad either. "Oh, please, please, please, please, please…" Endless repetitions of the same word, oh yes, that was good. He wanted to keep hearing that voice, strained with pleasure and guilt, he wanted to hear his name being screamed to him, he wanted to hear whispers and shouts and heavy moans.

"Keep going, Ichigo," he groaned, and trailed kisses downward until his mouth replaced his hand on Ichigo's groin. He slid his tongue over the slit in the tip.

"Ah!"

Ichigo's sharp cry encouraged one of his own. His King's fingers tightened in his hair, and the slight pain made him roll his eyes back in ecstasy. He took Ichigo's cock in his mouth and sucked. Ichigo thrust upward at the sensation and nearly choked him. Shirosaki released him with a soft, wet sound.

"Easy, now."

He pressed Ichigo's hips down against the ground and resumed licking and sucking and kissing. Next to him, he saw Ichigo's hands clench into fists against the desire to thrust. When he was reasonably confident that his King had sufficient control, he slid a hand slowly up away from Ichigo's hip, over his stomach and chest, all the while sucking and rubbing his tongue against the underside of Ichigo's erection.

Fingers tapped Ichigo's chin, and his eyes opened. The hand shifted so that the fingers were now resting against his lips. Shirosaki's mouth came away from his erection for a second.

"Suck."

Oh, right. Ichigo tried not to think too hard about what was going to happen, and took the fingers into his mouth. He licked and sucked, trying to make them as slippery and wet as possible. He may have been a virgin, but he wasn't stupid. This was going to hurt.

As Ichigo's tongue curled around his fingers, Shirosaki moaned. The way that Ichigo's mouth moved was incredibly suggestive, and the hollow made up his mind that if this ever happened again, he would happily accept being on the bottom if Ichigo would suck his cock the same way he was sucking his fingers.

It was a lucky thing that he had fallen asleep in this dream. Occasionally he explored Ichigo's dream-landscapes when he got tired of the rain. Because this was only a dream-picture of the city, only the emotions of those inside it affected its weather – however, when Shirosaki found himself here in an attempt to escape the rain, it rained anyway. Bloody King had more of an effect on his emotions than he liked. Perhaps he made the rain worse, himself, by being upset about it.

Well, it wasn't raining now.

He moved his head up to sink his teeth into Ichigo's neck and suck on the reddened skin. His now wet fingers nudged and rubbed against Ichigo's entrance, and the boy flinched. He gave Ichigo a look which was interpreted as, _Relax and it won't hurt so much, baka_. Ichigo took deep breaths and concentrated on the feel of the hollow's teeth and tongue on his neck. Shirosaki worked in a finger, and Ichigo gasped at the feeling and the slight pain that accompanied it. _Oh, come on, _he thought, _you're tougher than this._ He shifted against the finger inside him, and said hoarsely, "Just do it, Shirosaki."

The husky, slightly pained voice right next to Shirosaki's ear sent a shock of desire straight to his groin.

"Yes, sir…"

He introduced a second finger, rotated and scissored. He wasn't going to be able to hold back much longer if Kurosaki kept moaning and gasping like that.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

Shirosaki's fingers had found Ichigo's prostate, it seemed. The hollow grinned and brushed the spot again. "Ah! Shiro…ah…" Ichigo moaned weakly. "Come on, come on…please…please…" Huh. The kid had been vocal before, but now…Shirosaki had the feeling he was really going to enjoy himself.

He lined himself up. One thrust. Didn't want to stretch out the pain. Well. Not today, anyway.

"Ahhh-ah!" Shirosaki saw tears glimmer at the corners of Ichigo's eyes. Well, it was his first time. It was Shirosaki's first time too, but he doubted things were as painful for him as they were for Ichigo right now. He would wait as long as he could.

It took two attempts to find his voice. "Tell me…when…" He realised he was gasping. This feeling was incredible. He tried to regulate his breathing. Breathe, breathe, breathe…_Come on, Ichigo…_

The longer he waited, the more he could feel just how deeply Ichigo had sunk his fingernails (_claws_) into his back. He looked at Ichigo's face. His eyes were still shut, but his forehead wasn't as crumpled as it had been a few seconds ago. His mouth looked incredibly tempting. Shirosaki pulled and sucked at Ichigo's lower lip almost leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world and wasn't going to spontaneously combust any minute now if Ichigo didn't let him _move_.

When Shirosaki kissed him again Ichigo's eyelids jerked open. It was strange to see his Hollow up close like this, with his eyes lidded to the world, making himself vulnerable. Ichigo noticed a tiny crease in Shirosaki's brow. No doubt he was getting impatient.

_God_, he felt…full. He shifted his leg a bit, and felt movement inside him.

"Go on, Horse," he rasped. It felt like the right thing to say.

_Slow slow keep it slow oh fuck I'm gonna lose it soon slow slow slow slow_…It was so hard to go slowly and watch the expressions flit across Ichigo's face _and_ listen to those moans _and_ keep his mind together all at the same time.

"Shiro…_faster_."

Well, _fuck_, now he was allowed to gallop. "Yes!"

"Ah, Shiro, Shiro…" They were panting in sync now. Rocking in time with…something, fuck, his mind was not in top form right now. He licked a trail along Ichigo's collarbone and up his neck, and goddamn that was Ichigo's pulse under his tongue…

Their bodies were hot with friction and lust and growing hotter by the second. He could feel the pressure building in his groin and Ichigo was screaming, must've been hitting his prostate, thank god they weren't in the real world otherwise Ichigo would have woken the entire fucking neighbourhood, Ichigo was clenching around him and fuck if he wasn't tight enough already…_fuck_…

Ichigo came over their stomachs with a long, throaty moan. Shirosaki followed after a few more thrusts. They panted and gasped while they recovered.

"…King."

Ichigo raised a brow questioningly.

"Ya came to see…why I wasn't in yer…dreams anymore. Right?"

He nodded. He didn't really feel up to speaking at the moment.

Shirosaki grinned deviously. "'S okay. I'll come back, if yeh missed me."

The grin stretched impossibly wider.

"Now…yeh won't be able to get any rest…fer a…different reason."

Those last two words sounded threatening.

"Fuck…you."

"Exactly."

Ichigo's throat felt rusty. How loud had he been? It seemed like Shirosaki had liked it though…perhaps he would be more obedient if he yelled at him more often. He sighed.

Shirosaki was a Hollow.

He was made up of base desires.

He was bound to have a kink or three.

* * *

Author's Note: I wrote this fic years ago, and while I'm not all that popular on FF dot net, to this day this story is still my most favourited and reviewed! Thank you everyone for your support! I really appreciate it.


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